Convenient Lies

by Robin Patchen

"When?" His skepticism must've been obvious in his voice, because her eyebrows lifted. He had secured Marisa a hotel room until he got the whole story, but she wasn't supposed to have contacted anybody. Maybe she'd risked contacting her sister.

  "Through your stories," Leslie said. "Remember the false name you used for her?"

  He thought back. The name had been important to her. "Piper, right?"

  "I had a doll when we were growing up. We played a game with her—like hide-and-seek. One of us would hide the doll, and the other would try to find it. It was a silly game, but our apartment was too small to play real hide-and-seek, so this was our variation. The doll was named Piper. So the game was called Peek-A-Piper."

  Nate couldn't help but smile.

  "Maybe it sounds stupid to you, but she could've used a thousand names. She insisted you use Piper, right?"

  She had.

  "It was her way of telling me you'd be the way to find her."

  "All of which sounds so sweet and nostalgic, but how do I know any of it's true? You don't exactly look like her."

  Leslie pulled a little photo album out of her purse and handed it to him. "I carry this with me everywhere, just to remember…"

  Her words trailed off while he flipped through the photos. There was a young Marisa, beautiful even as a child. And beside her in picture after picture, this woman.

  "Okay, so you're sisters. Doesn't change anything. Like I said, the FBI—"

  "They would have missed it. Did she give you anything? A painting or a drawing, a letter? Anything like that?"

  She'd given him a little drawing. It was a pencil sketch of a cabin by a lake, created after he'd shared with her that if he had to run, he'd like to find a place like that. From his description, Marisa had drawn a work of art. She'd made him promise to keep it forever, a keepsake. And he had.

  "A sketch."

  She dropped the paper towel on the table. "Can I see it?"

  "I think it's in the Pod."

  Her pale brown eyes brightened, and she stood. "Let's go."

  "Wait." He waited until Leslie sat again. What he wanted to tell her was that no, he wasn't going to help her find Marisa. No, he wasn't getting involved. And no, he didn't think it was a good idea to pull Marisa into whatever drama was unfolding in New York. But he couldn't miss the hope in Leslie's eyes, the fear just behind it. He knew what it felt like to be threatened, and he knew how he'd feel if it were someone he loved in danger, someone he loved who needed his help. He'd do anything for his brother. It wasn't his place to decide for Marisa what should be done.

  "Let me bandage that wound."

  Her foot tapped while he squeezed out the antibacterial gel. As he pressed the bandage to Leslie's forehead, he said. "I don't want her to get hurt."

  "They threatened to kill me."

  "I know. I'm not... It's not okay if you get hurt, either. But pulling your sister in puts you both in danger. How do you know they won't kill both of you? And besides, Marisa doesn't have the money."

  "How can you be so sure?"

  "She told me—"

  "Stealing that money was a federal offense. You really think she'd confess to a reporter?"

  "I protect my sources."

  "How could she have known for sure?"

  "She trusted me with her whereabouts. With her life."

  Leslie stood. "I know. And I never thought she took it either. But this guy—he seemed really sure. And Marisa knew everything. She knew—"

  "I know the story, Leslie. I wrote it, remember? I'm just saying, I never thought she stole the money."

  "Maybe I want her to have it because if she doesn't, I'm dead." She lowered her gaze and covered her face with her hands. He barely heard her next words. "I don't know what else to do."

  "And you want to find your sister."

  She looked up. "I need to know she's okay."

  He imagined his little brother. Also a half-sibling, also much younger than he. Nate had never lived with Finn, but he loved him just the same.

  "Okay." He snatched a box cutter from off the counter. "Let's see if we can find it."

  They searched the Pod until they found the box marked photos, then dug inside. The item they uncovered was a color sketch on cream-colored paper. He'd had it professionally mounted in a thick gilded frame. The drawing depicted a little log cabin surrounded by tall trees and nestled against a sparkling blue lake. In the bottom corner, Marisa had written her initials in tiny letters.

  The artwork was simple. And it wasn't. With her talent and a box of colored pencils, Marisa had made the scene come alive. Nate could almost smell the flowers she'd drawn in the dainty window boxes, hear the lapping of ripples on the serene lake.

  "May I?"

  He handed Leslie the picture. "Your sister is immensely talented."

  "I know." Her tone was flat. "She's good at everything."

  Was that jealousy? Probably, but who could blame Leslie? Her little sister wasn't just talented, she was beautiful. The kind of beautiful a man couldn't forget. Not that Nate hadn't tried over the years, knowing he'd never see her again.

  Leslie stepped out of the Pod, and Nate followed, closed the door, and locked it behind him.

  Back in the kitchen, Leslie opened her purse and pulled out a magnifying glass.

  Nate stared at the top of her frizzy head while she studied the picture. He couldn't imagine she'd find anything. That picture had hung over his bureau for years. He'd looked at it a thousand times, and he'd never seen anything out of the ordinary.

  "Got it." Leslie didn't look up. "Can you write this down for me?"

  Just like that? So much for his powers of observation. He snatched a Sharpie and an old newspaper from his pile of packing supplies. "Go."

  She recited an email address, and he wrote it down, a random scattering of numbers and letters at a Yahoo account.

  She looked up, triumphant. "We got her."

  He wasn't so sure. "May I see?"

  She handed him the magnifying glass and pointed to a spot on one of the logs that made up the cabin. He looked at the spot with his naked eye and saw nothing. But through the magnifying glass...

  He looked up. "How did you know it would be there?"

  She shrugged. "She's my sister."

  He handed her the magnifying glass and ripped away the edge of the newspaper where he'd written the email address. He held it out. "Here you go."

  She looked at it, looked at him. "I think you should email her."

  He took a step back. "Why me?"

  "They might be monitoring my email."

  "But if I email her, then when she emails back, I'll have to contact you. Won't that be just as dangerous?"

  "I'll wait."

  He stepped back, lifted his hands. "Whoa. Look, I was happy to help, but now I'm out."

  "Marisa trusts you."

  "She trusts you, too." He pointed to the drawing. "Or she wouldn't have left you that message."

  "She left it with you, Nate."

  "It doesn't matter. I can't—"

  "I'm scared to go home, okay?" She paused, swallowed, as if the admission had cost her. "I just...can I please just stay here? I'll help you pack. I'll be quiet, I promise, and...Marisa trusts you. So I trust you."

  He glared. He didn't need this woman here, cluttering up his life. He'd planned to finish packing the next day and and move for good. The house was already under contract. With no job in Manhattan, no former coworkers who cared to keep in touch, no friends here in Queens, there was no reason to hang around. Certainly not to help this woman with whatever wild goose chase she was on. Even if she was in danger.

  Even if Marisa was in danger.

  The thought made his pulse race, and he pulled in a deep breath, then another until he thought he could talk again.

  As Leslie watched, her eyes filled with fear and pleading. "I'm a good packer. And I own a cleaning company. When you're through, I can have my crew clean the house for you, no charge."

  Was she craz
y? Did she think he'd risk his life to avoid cleaning his own house?

  Okay, he was being melodramatic, and her offer was tempting. He could use the extra set of hands. And the woman needed his help.

  And to communicate with Marisa again...

  He could practically hear his counselor's voice. "To not risk is to not live. The world isn't that dangerous."

  It was, though. Danger lurked around every corner. And perhaps right here, right now.

  But Leslie was in danger. God knew, he wanted to send the woman away. But no matter how much the thought of helping her terrified him, he couldn't live with the alternative.

  "Fine. Let me get my computer."

  Download Twisted Lies today

  Beauty in Flight

  Beauty in Hiding

  Beauty in Battle

  Convenient Lies

  Twisted Lies

  Generous Lies

  Innocent Lies

  Chasing Amanda

  Finding Amanda

  A Package Deal

  Legacy Rejected, releasing July 2019

  About the Author

  Aside from her family and her Savior, Robin Patchen has two loves—writing and traveling. If she could combine them, she’d spend a lot of time sitting in front of her laptop at sidewalk cafes and ski lodges and beachside burger joints. She’d visit every place in the entire world—twice, if possible—and craft stories and tell people about her Savior. Alas, time is too short and money is too scarce for Robin to traipse all over the globe, even if her husband and kids wanted to go with her. So she stays in Oklahoma, shares the Good News when she can, and writes to illustrate the unending grace of God through the power and magic of story.

  Copyright © 2016 by Robin Patchen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.